bookseller was a good sport
when my younger brother
paid for my birthday gift
entirely in quarters
lunch was nice — sat in
an old diner with
my two favorite people…
girlfriend to my right,
brother to my left —
chicken salad was meh,
but the chips were good —
waitress was a little rough
-looking, and for some reason
she was sprinkling
salt in the coffee filters —
something I’d never seen before
didn’t order coffee though,
just apple juice…
we used to go to this place
with my mom —
lot of local people go here,
folks I recognized from church,
or parents of kids I went
to elementary school with…
rode shotgun in the wrangler
and we took a drive
to this park we used to go to
as kids — girlfriend snapped
a few pictures — it was like
we were five again…
park with the chains,
whatever that meant —
it was hot though
and I was already working
on a pretty bad farmer’s tan
for the summer —
I’d look like a total joke in
a few days when we’d
be out there sitting on the
beach wearing next to nothing…
so yeah, the bookseller took
all the quarters, acted as polite and
friendly as he could, though
you could tell he was probably
so pissed he had to fill up his
box with that much change —
like 39 quarters in all,
counted them up in stacks,
emptied them out
from an empty canister of
peppermint gum…
summer birthdays are brutal,
you sweat your ass off all day —
hair has gone lighter,
more suffused with gray…
this drink is so icy,
so icy and green —
I wish it were brown,
so rich and so dark,
and maybe so bold…
and I wish I could tell you
I wasn’t getting so old…
but these words,
they’re still young,
so listen to them close
when I tell you I love you
and how much I appreciate
you both
Garbage Notes:
I wrote this one on my birthday last year. And the reason I chose to discuss it today is because the poem features two of the most important people in my life. My brother and my girlfriend.
Your family and your loved ones are there for you in these constant and unrelenting ways. It’s the kind of thing that is continuous. And from moment-to-moment, the ways in which they are there for you may seem unnoticeable and even unremarkable. But the greatest love is always the simplest love.
Some of these actions are imperceptible to the people around you. But you and the other person know what it means. It’s the kind of love that understands and is patient and accepting. It’s the kind of love that doesn’t judge you harshly for your problems and your flaws.
Today was by most accounts a pretty regular day. I worked. I drove. I existed and I persisted. But I was also stressed out and tired. And I don’t think I would have gotten through the commonplace battle of putting one foot in front of the other without the small acts of being there that both of these people expressed to me today and on a continuing basis.
So when I sat down this evening and thought, shit, which piece am I gonna write about tonight. I thought, well, it as to be something about Ernie. And I dug through and remembered the poem about how we went to Barnes & Noble on my birthday last year and he paid for my book in quarters. The quarters that had been building and collecting space in his car in one of those big canister things that holds chewing gum.
He thought it was funny as hell to troll the cashier a little by paying entirely in coins. I don’t think the dude appreciated it very much. But he was a good sport. And we all awkwardly laughed about it as it was happening. I mean, coins are still money. And sometimes you gotta use them, right?
Anyway. That was a small thing. But to me it was a memorable day. Getting older is tough. You realize that you aren’t as omnipotent as you once thought you were. You begin to understand where you’d be or where you might end up without the support of those who love you. And you have to take time to appreciate the role other people play in your life.
No matter how much time you want to spend alone. No matter how much solitude you crave. No matter how much you are nourished by the quiet. You still find yourself dying without love. You still find yourself scattered without the helping hand of those who matter.
So when times get tough—and I know times tend to only get tougher—life can be an uphill sort of bullshit ride sometimes. A slog to say the least. I take solace in the fact that it’s other people who make you stronger.
It doesn’t matter how smart you think you are. Makes no difference what you can accomplish on your own. It’s the brothers. It’s the lovers. It’s the mothers, grandmothers, aunts, best friends, cousins. These are the people who help make you better.
So thank you, guys. Thank you all. And thank you to Substack for being there too, at the end of a long day. At the end of a long week. And at the end of what will surely (and hopefully) be a longish crusade against time, I express all my gratitude.
Franco Amati 2024
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Beautiful poem. 39 quarters are better than 975 pennies.
What David said on the restack was right—you have such a hypnotic way of delivering the prose. Pulls me toward the heart of it.